Hardest of Hearts
by Jubella
Summary: It was always a matter of when. It was hidden behind their eyes and under their skin... a brush of hands, a secret smile, the spark in their eyes when they fought... mixed with words they didn't mean and foolish acts that hurt each other.


It was always a matter of when.

Not how, not maybe, not even if.

From the very first day they talked, _really_ talked, the words not spoken where always there. Between the lines, under the surface, behind their eyes, and under their skin; always a brush of hands, a secret smile, the spark in their eyes when they fought.

It was a matter of when, and of _who_.

Who would be the first to say it out loud? The first to break free of fear? The courageous one? Even if they admitted it to each other, some of the things they felt, it was not the same as to really admit it, to finally say it. To take the next step. They were _kind of_ friends, they were the _prettiest girl_, _more than that_, better than Lima, and even _frustrating; _but it was not the same as to say, out loud, that they were _the one_, more important than _him_, not really a friend because they were _more_. It was always worse after those words, there was always underlying bitterness at not being able to say what they really wanted to say; a bitterness at themselves and at each other that left them lashing out for foolish reasons confused as disappointment or worthlessness.

It was there right from the start, mixed with words they didn't mean and foolish acts that hurt each other; but they knew the underlying feelings were not an excuse for their mistakes and the state they were now. So close, yet so far.

Whether it was stubbornness or fear, or fear that they had waited too long, taking the next step after walking in circles around each other for so long was even harder than admitting it to themselves the very first time.

Finally, it was fear of running out of time that pushed them right through the line they had been walking all that time.

The first time Rachel had softly cupped Quinn's cheeks, stood on her toes and softly pressed their lips together, Quinn could have cried. Because that kiss _hurt, _it pierced her heart, but in a good way. Rachel had pulled away after three agonizing seconds, thumbs brushing her cheekbones softly as she smiled, and she had walked away. Just like that.

And maybe Quinn understood why. Because there was a lot of bravery in that kindness; because they'd hurt each other if they got too close too fast, like they always ended up hurting each other when they tried to make it better. That's why she only waited a week before cornering Rachel before Glee and kissing her forehead before softly joining their lips for the bitterest four seconds. They tasted bitter because they were stolen, because they meant cheating, because it wasn't enough. But too little was too much for them now. The bitterness remained when she had to watch Rachel with him, but she knew she deserved it. They had waited too long.

It hurt to know it, but that didn't stop Quinn from letting Rachel kiss her just before their number for Regionals. _"For good luck" _She had whispered, and they'd smiled at each other for a second before running after the others towards the stage.

But Quinn got tired of slow after their good luck kiss worked. They had won, and so Quinn pulled Rachel into Santana's attic at their celebration party and bruised her lips with a kiss. They stumbled with boxes and tripped with the carpet while Quinn held Rachel's face between her hands and Rachel held onto her hips, their lips never parting. Across the room they fell onto an old couch with stuffing coming out of its armrests, but Quinn never noticed it or the spring digging onto her back as Rachel climbed onto her lap and they continued their kissing. It wasn't a romantic place or time to have their first real kiss, nor were the circumstances, and the desperation was seeping from every gesture; the way Quinn would pull herself up while Rachel would arch her back to have their bodies pressing together as much as they could, or how the blonde couldn't keep her hands in one place, moving them over Rachel's back, ass and legs, back and forth. Rachel was bruising their lips with the force of their kiss, her hands stroking Quinn's face and cupping her neck over and over, their breathing erratic through their noses. It wasn't romantic, but they couldn't seem to stop. Stopping and thinking would be bad, maybe. Then words would come, and with them the chance of that bitterness seeping in once more, and they couldn't allow that, not when the kisses felt so _right_, for the first time. Even though they were wrong.

Rachel felt like she should have all along, in the right place, in the right arms. She knew right away, as soon as they fell onto that couch, that she was made to be held be gentle arms, kissed by soft lips, that the feelings Quinn's hands created as they squeezed her ass and roamed over her back were what she was supposed to feel all along, instead of the light chill and stiffness she felt with boys. And she knew, as Quinn bit her lower lip and pulled gently, sneaking her hands beneath her shirt to touch her skin, that she couldn't go back. Her breath hitched in her throat.

"I only want to feel you, I promise." Quinn mumbled against her wet lips, with a voice so rough and husky Rachel felt like she could melt.

She nodded, slowly moving her hands to the back of Quinn's neck, treading the tips of her fingers with soft little blonde hairs.

Quinn shivered lightly, inching forward to join their lips together again. Rachel's heart was pounding so hard that she could feel it against her hands on her upper back. She marveled at the softness, the way she could simultaneously feel Rachel's spine and her scapula and the muscles of her back twitching slightly. She rounded her hands on her hips, to her stomach, and they stayed there, fingers softly stroking as they kissed, feeling her skin erupt in goose bumps and her warm breath hit her moist lips when they stopped their kisses to regain breath.

"Four months." Rachel whispered against her cheek. Like a silent pact, an understanding, Quinn nodded.

"Four months." She echoed.

Rachel curled herself on Quinn's lap, her head on the crook of a pale, warm neck, lips against her soft skin. Quinn wrapped her arms around her middle, one hand sneaking beneath her shirt once more, palm resting against her back. Rachel brought one hand up to feel Quinn's heart beating against her chest and smiled.

They still couldn't say it, although they thought about it. But words at that time wouldn't make things better; they would only make it bitter. It wasn't time, yet. Things were still tainted with foolish words and past things they didn't mean. Their hearts could take a little more time, but not a lot more of hurt.

Rachel spent the remaining of her time planning; for her classes, for Glee, for her voice lessons and her ballet recitals. Perhaps time would go by faster if she kept herself distracted, not being able to watch the clock and her calendar or Quinn walking by the hallway. Some days they turned around and smiled at each other, some days their hands purposely brushed, or they danced together, some days they completely ignored each other. Rachel spent her time planning for New York.

Rachel left him not a week after their promise, but Lima was not a place made to make dreams come true. It was a place for them to be created, to leave to fulfill them, but not to live their dreams. There was a very big chance for them to shatter, to rot… at least the big ones.

And this once was huge.

Even though there was a chance that things wouldn't work out, that they ended up breaking each other's hearts, it was now too late. Quinn held Rachel's heart and could no longer hold on onto her own. And as she heard a key in the door, her heart swelled. She sat up in bed with her back against the pillow, sleepily opening her eyes, waiting for Rachel to appear in the doorframe.

The brunette's shoes were already off when she walked into the bedroom, an inevitable smile blossoming on their faces at the sight of each other. The New York traffic was still heard through the window, even at one a.m., as Rachel snuck under the covers to hold her lover close. Quinn treaded her fingers softly, sleepily, through Rachel's hair, smiling as her heart beat strongly. They had to be hard and strong to break though the past and the odds and their own ghosts, and they were. And now they were free. Quinn knew it as soon as Rachel lifted her head to peck her lips and then rested her ear on her chest, tapping the rhythm of Quinn's heart against her cheek.


End file.
